


Drunk and Somewhat Disorderly Redux

by ChampagneSly



Series: Blue Tulip Verse [9]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:09:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChampagneSly/pseuds/ChampagneSly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jens comes home drunk to Eirik.</p><p>Blue Tulip verse, post Come Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drunk and Somewhat Disorderly Redux

Jens was an idiot. A drunk, happy idiot that was incapable of appreciating that he was far, far, too large to be crawling over the arm of the couch and into Eirik’s lap,  blanketing him with all his intoxicated weight and warmth. Jens also smelled like the bottom of a bottle and was blocking his view of the television, but Eirik had enjoyed his hours of solitude thinking of Jens carrying out their little plan while he watched his secret shows, and so he had just enough of a good mood to permit the great fool to sprawl across his legs and litter his cheeks and lips with wet kisses that tasted of beer. 

“Hey!” Jens said cheerfully for the fourth time since he’d come careening through Eirik’s front door, singing the Danish national anthem and flinging his coat on the ground. Eirik looked into drunk eyes with no expectations of hearing sense. Jens smiled and did not disappoint, “I missed you! 

“Ridiculous,” Eirik murmured, pushing Jens’ eager, kissing face away from his so he could better wrangle the idiot’s too long legs over his lap, fully intent on being comfortable if he was going to tolerate this sort of foolishness. Jens lolled in his arms, apparently content to be manhandled into what amounted to being held like a princess in Eirik’s lap. Eirik pushed Jens’ wilted hair from his forehead, muttering, “You were gone for a total of three hours, you couldn’t possibly have missed me.” 

“I’m always missing my Norge, especially when I’m waging his war on the Frencho-Dutcho alliance!” Jens laughed brightly and attacked Eirik’s reluctantly fond smirk with a sloppy kiss that passed a hint of smoke from Jens’ tongue to Eirik’s lips. 

“Franco-Dutch, you idiot,” Eirik said, determined not to find any of this amusing as he pushed Jens’ happily slack face away again, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Did you smoke one of Van Rijn’s cigarettes? You taste like an ashtray.” 

Jens’ brow furrowed, hair falling over his eyes as he shook his head and touched his cheek to Eirik’s and declared resolutely, “Hell yeah! I had to smoke two of those damned things to get the bastard to keep having drinks.”

Eirik winced, “Not so loud. I’m right here.”

But he could not help the victorious smirk that turned his lips up at the corner as he thought of Jens following his whispered suggestions to pretend that he needed to be persuaded to go to New York without him, when they had already decided that Jens had to take Bonnefoy’s offer. There was something so richly satisfying in wasting Van Rijn’s time and money and best efforts at manipulation, only to send him home stinking drunk to that smug and interfering French bastard. It was nice to try and even the score. 

And if such sweet victory cost him a drunk Jens, Eirik was ready to bear such a burden, ready to brush kisses over Jens’ too warm skin and let his legs go numb from a fool’s weight.  

Jens snuffled, lips spreading in a wide smile of drunken stupidity as eyelashes brushed against Eirik’s cheek, “Mmm, yes, you are! Right here with me and not far away.” Jens swayed backwards and looked at him with blue eyes that were serious despite the haze of alcohol that slowed each blink.  ”Hey, Norge, hey. Did you know that we’re all close right now?” Jens whispered.  

“Yes, that would be the meaning of right here,” Eirik answered softly, wondering when his hands had made their way to Jens’ hair, fingers twining around strands and stroking gently through the tangles as Jens hummed and pressed ever closer.

“I can feel your heartbeat and listen to the sound of your breathing,” Jens said slowly, kissing the curve of his jaw, “I missed that when you were away.” Eirik made a soothing noise he’d thought he’d forgotten when Aron was no longer small. Jens kissed the corner of his mouth and leaned into his touch. “I’ll miss it again when I go to New York.” 

For several long moments, Eirik said nothing, but continued to run his fingers through Jens’ hair and letting his thumb drift down his neck to trace the steady hum of Jens’ pulse. The TV rumbled in the background, but they were so close he could hear Jens’ lazy, shallow breathing, could feel the rush of air in and out against his shoulder and up his throat. Jens was too heavy and too hot and too desperately near, but Eirik did not move, didn’t try to shift Jens from his tired thighs, resigned to enjoy this moment that Jens probably wouldn’t remember in the morning when his head ached and his stomach churned and Eirik had no sympathy to give.

He turned Jens’ sleepy face with two fingers and pressed his lips to Jens’ sad smile, kissing him slowly and softly until Jens was sighing into the embrace. 

“I’ll miss it as well,” Eirik confessed in a low whisper, letting the secret pass like the taste of smoke from his lips to Jens, “But I won’t be far behind. Can you be patient?” 

“For you? Anything,” Jens whispered in return, before slumping against Eirik’s shoulder and yawning. 

“Well, then,” Eirik murmured, closing his eyes and resting against the back of the couch, too pinned down by warmth and weighted affection to wrest their tangled limbs from the cushion just yet, “Everything will be just fine, Idiot.”


End file.
